The Doorstep Girls Page 4

  ‘What’s he like?’ Her mother’s voice was muffled from beneath the blanket. ‘This Daniel Hanson?’

  ‘He’s nice,’ she said softly. He wasn’t as handsome as Jamie, his features were stronger, and he didn’t give her those strange stirrings that Jamie did when sometimes she caught him looking at her. But she thought him honest and straightforward, as if he would only say what he meant and believed in. He had nice eyes too, grey with long lashes. She wrapped her arms around herself and slid further beneath the blanket. ‘I think he could be a friend. Like Ruby,’ she added.

  Her mother gave a little chuckle. ‘Ah, Gracie,’ she said softly. ‘You’re still just a bairn.’

  Grace was puzzled. That was what Daniel had said. But she wasn’t. She was a grown woman with a job and wages. What did they mean?

  Both her mother and then her father had shaken her to rouse her before they left the house the next morning. Her mother was working at a house in Albion Street and the domestic staff there liked to have an early start. Her father had to walk towards the dock on the other side of town to his work as a labourer and so he was off early too, but Grace fell asleep again and was only awakened by Ruby banging on the door.

  ‘Come on,’ she urged. ‘We’re late!’

  Grace scrambled out of bed. She was usually the one to waken Ruby. She pulled on her skirt and shirt and slipped her bare feet into her boots. There was no time for a rinse under the pump this morning, nor time for anything to eat, but she tore a piece of bread from the loaf which her mother had left on the table, put the bread back into the bread crock in case the mice got it, locked the door and hid the key in the usual place under a stone, and raced after Ruby.

  There really wasn’t any need to lock the door as they had no possessions worth stealing, but, as her mother frequently pointed out, they wouldn’t want to come home to find that somebody else had moved in and neither did she really trust the family living in the room upstairs.

  Ruby’s mother, Bessie, on days when she wasn’t sleeping in her bed, sat on the doorstep with her pipe in her mouth, watching the comings and goings of her neighbours in the court. She knew who was in and who was out, who was working and who wasn’t, what kind of work they did, and whether they owed their rent, and she knew the bailiffs by name.

  Ruby had been late up that morning and didn’t leave the house until nearly six o’clock. Bessie waited until she was sure that her daughter had left the court and was on her way to work, then rolled off her mattress and onto the floor. She lifted first one corner of the mattress and peered under it, and then the other. Then she pulled it out to the middle of the room and lifted and peered under the other side. She could see nothing but grey dust, but nevertheless she wriggled beneath, lifting it as best she could until she reached the middle. Coughing and spluttering she wormed her way out again.

  ‘So what’s she done with it? She’s hidden it somewhere. She’s never tekken it to work! Young varmint. That was my money!’

  She gazed around the empty room. There was nowhere else Ruby could have hidden the money. There was no cupboard, and the fireplace had been blocked off years before, so she hadn’t put it up there. Bet she’s given it to Grace’s ma to look after, she deliberated. She’d know that owd skinflint wouldn’t spend it. She put her shawl around her head, went down the stairs and looked out into the court.

  Dare I go in? she thought. I know where they keep ’key. But then! She hesitated. Them new folks opposite might see me. She peered across to the Hansons’ house. Young lad’ll have gone to work, but mister won’t have and I don’t know about her. She seems a bit snooty but she’ll soon change. Come down in ’world if she’s got to live in this hovel.

  As she stood meditating, the Hansons’ door opened and Mr Hanson came out and stood on the doorstep. He coughed and spat, glanced around and saw her and briefly nodded. He put his hand into his jacket pocket and brought out a pipe, then from the other pocket a wad of tobacco.

  Bessie perked up. That was a large wad of baccy. She could usually only afford a screw of scraps from the bottom of the tobacco tin which, if the tobacco merchant was feeling generous, he would sell to her cheap. She wandered across to him. ‘G’morning. Bad job about that woman. Would’ve given you a fright, shouldn’t wonder?’

  He nodded. ‘Aye.’ He pulled out strands of tobacco with his left hand whilst awkwardly balancing the pipe with his fingerless right.

  ‘Do you want a hand wi’ that?’

  He glared at her. ‘No! I can manage.’

  ‘Accident at work, wasn’t it?’ she persisted, ignoring or unaware of his irritation. ‘Hope you got some recompense? By!’ She sniffed appreciatively. ‘That smells like good baccy.’

  ‘It is.’ He tamped down into the bowl but didn’t light the tobacco. ‘It’s my last wad. Got to last me a lifetime.’ He thrust the pipe towards her. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘Tek a sniff at that, missus.’

  She looked askance at him. What was the good of that? You could take a sniff at the baker’s shop but it didn’t make you less hungry. There were some mean, parsimonious folk about and here, it seemed, was one of them.

  Bessie wandered back to her own doorstep. ‘Can’t go into ’Sheppards’ house while he’s hanging about,’ she muttered into her shawl. ‘And I bet his missus is looking out of ’window. Nosy old cow.’

  She sat down on the step and thought about her money, which, she considered, had been stolen from her, and by her own daughter. She looked over at the house opposite where Jamie and his mother, Nell, lived. The door was firmly shut and there was no sound from within. There was a curtain at the window, the only house in the court that was curtained, and that too was drawn.

  ‘It’s a disgrace,’ she muttered between her few clenched teeth as she sucked on the empty pipe. ‘Not right for a young fella like that to be playing ’pander for his mother.’

  There was not much that Bessie missed, even though she was often addled with opium, and she had no objection to Nell making a living in the best way she could, for wasn’t she still a pretty woman who was only using her charms to her advantage? But Bessie had, beneath her own cunning and duplicity, a thin and hidden layer of respectability, and a sense of seemliness of what was right and proper, and Jamie procuring for his mother wasn’t, in her opinion, at all decent.

  She heard a rattle behind her and Mrs Peck came out from her door, followed by a clutch of squawking hens and a dog which ran outside and lifted its leg against the pump. Behind her, as Bessie peered into her room, two children sat by a low fire. Mrs Peck was a small woman, similar in size to Bessie but younger in age, and she too was wearing a black shawl over a dress which had perhaps once been grey, but was now of an indeterminate colour. On her head she wore a handmade tucked and pleated bonnet, the kind that countrywomen wore.

  The two women exchanged greetings. ‘I’m just going to let ’pig out,’ Mrs Peck remarked. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve any scraps o’ dinner for her?’

  Bessie snorted. ‘I’ve barely enough to feed missen, let alone your pig!’

  ‘It’s a worry.’ Mrs Peck rubbed her chin. ‘Perhaps we shouldn’t have brought her with us, but I was sure that I’d be able to get leftovers from ’neighbours or baker. And I’ve no grain for ’hens either.’

  ‘By heck, missus, what sort of place do you come from if you expect luxuries like that? Folks round here are half starved most of ’time.’ Bessie eased herself up from the doorstep. ‘Best thing you can do is kill yon pig and wring hens’ necks. At least you’d have a few good dinners.’

  ‘Why, I can’t do that!’ Mrs Peck was shocked. ‘That’s not good husbandry. I’d have no eggs and, besides, sow will drop her litter any time and I’ll sell piglets on when they’re big enough.’

  ‘Well, why didn’t you stop where you was?’ Bessie was flabbergasted. ‘You could have done that in ’country!’

  ‘But we were turned out!’ Mrs Peck’s bottom lip trembled. ‘It was a tied farm cottage and there was no work on ’lan
d for Mr Peck. That’s reason we came to Hull, so’s he could find some other job. I never wanted to come. Never would have come of my own accord. Why would I? There’s nowt here for likes of me who’s lived all of my life in ’country.’

  ‘And has he found work?’ Bessie asked, already knowing the answer.

  Her neighbour shook her head. ‘No, not yet. A month we’ve been here and he’s not earned a penny. We’ve applied to Guardians, but they wouldn’t give us owt ’cos Hull’s not our legal living place. We’ve been to vagrant office and they give us a loaf o’ bread and a screw o’ tea for ’bairns and said we should apply to ’workhouse. But I’ll not do that,’ she said fiercely. ‘I’ll starve first.’

  ‘That you will,’ Bessie said sagely. She had had a taste of both starvation and the workhouse when her husband had gone off and left her pregnant and with two children. It wasn’t until her eldest son had gone to sea and she had found work scrubbing floors, that she was able to leave the workhouse and find a cheap room here in Middle Court.

  ‘Try Sculcoates Guardians,’ Bessie called after Mrs Peck as she made her way towards the pigpen. ‘We’re just on ’edge of ’boundary. You might get summat from them,’ and though she saw a small ray of hope in Mrs Peck’s face, she knew that the hope would probably not be realized.

  She was feeling hungry, the morning was getting on and she hadn’t yet eaten anything. She and Ruby had dined well last night on the meat pie and bread and the jug of ale, and there was a crust left if Ruby hadn’t eaten it before she went out.

  At least my little lad will have had some fodder this morning. She thought of Freddie as she puffed her way upstairs. ‘Bet he had a nice slice of beef and a cup o’ tea afore he set off for work,’ she muttered to herself as she frequently did when she was alone. ‘I must ask missus downstairs where she thinks he might have gone in ’country. There’ll be lots of big houses, I expect. That’s where all ’toffs go once they’ve made their money out of us in ’town.’

  There wasn’t any bread, and she fumbled in her skirt pocket for some of the change left over from the sixpence Ruby had given her. There were two pennies, and she sat down for a moment to consider. Should she buy a penny loaf? Ruby would be so pleased with her if she did. Or should she go to the apothecary’s and buy a tincture? She gave a shiver and pulled her shawl closer to her. It was warmer outside than it was in. She looked at her hands and saw the tremor in them. It was there more often than not these days.

  ‘I’ll go to apothecary,’ she decided. ‘No I won’t! Not to Mr Cooke anyway. He diddled me yesterday, I’m sure of it. Charged me too much, and’, she groused as she pulled on her old boots, ‘he onny gave me cordial. Huh! Thinks I don’t know ’difference! No, I’ll go to ’grocer for a pennorth o’ loddy. That’ll set me up for ’day and I’ll buy a penny loaf as well.’

  She came out of her room and looked up as she heard the scrape of the trapdoor above her. A man’s head peered out.

  ‘Don’t come out yet,’ Bessie croaked in a hoarse whisper. ‘Missus downstairs’ll see you. She’s just gone out to see to ’pig.’

  ‘Can’t help that.’ Mr Blake pulled on the rope that held the ladder and hauled it towards him. ‘I’m fair busting for privy and so are ’bairns. ’Pail’s overflowing and we can’t wait any longer.’

  He climbed halfway down and then reached up the ladder to take a wooden pail with stinking slops from his wife, who was leaning down from the trapdoor. As he took it from her some of the contents spilled out onto the floor.

  ‘Privy’s not been emptied for weeks,’ Bessie commented and watched as Mrs Blake and then two children climbed down.

  ‘Where’s ’other babby?’ she asked.

  ‘Sick,’ Mrs Blake said wearily. ‘I’ve left him sleeping.’

  ‘He can’t crawl out, can he?’ Bessie gazed up at the open trapdoor and pondered that the child would break his head if he fell out.

  Mrs Blake shook her head. ‘He’s not got ’strength, poor little mite. I’m just off to ’vagrant office to beg for some milk for him.’ Her mouth turned down. ‘If I don’t get some soon, then he’ll not last ’week out.’

  Bessie fingered the two coins in her pocket. She was desperate for her laudanum, the trembling in her limbs was increasing by the minute and, if she didn’t get relief soon, she’d be screaming. She hesitated, then pulled out a penny. ‘Here, missus. Tek this. Go fetch ’bairn some milk.’

  ‘God bless you, lady.’ Mrs Blake’s gratitude was reward enough. ‘That shilling we gave you for ’rent was our last, but we had to find shelter or we’d have finished up in ’gutter. Somebody above must have directed us to you.’

  ‘Well, I don’t know about that,’ Bessie mumbled. ‘Cos I was on my beam end when you gave me that shilling.’

  ‘Where’s your young bairn this morning?’ Mrs Blake called as she went down the stairs. ‘Has he got a job of work?’

  Bessie’s face creased with pain. She’d have to hurry to get her dose of loddy, she could feel her body shaking and her fingers tingling. She nodded. ‘Aye,’ she croaked. ‘He has. I’ve sold him to ’chimney sweep.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Wincomlee and Cleveland Street, the streets which ran on either side of the river Hull, were thronging with hundreds of workers making their way home. Factories, tin works, cotton and seed mills all spewed forth a crush of humanity from their gates, tipping them out in much the same way as the machines on which they had been working had tipped out an end product of machine parts, metal sheets, cotton, or oil.

  Some of the women, and more especially the children, seemed to have little energy with which to drag themselves back to the place from where they had started that morning. The sun was just up as they had set out and was just going down as they returned, and for most of them that was the only glimpse of the summer that they would have. The exception to this routine drudgery was Sunday, when they didn’t work and could choose whether to spend their weary day in bed, or clean their dwelling rooms, or, if they were so inclined, could do their washing so that they might have a clean garment of clothing for the following week.

  Many of the men spent their Sundays in the company of the innkeepers, for on a Saturday they received their meagre salary, and some, if their womenfolk were not lying in wait for them by the factory gate, would divert from their normal way home and take another route towards the alehouse, and not go home at all that night.

  But there were also others who would count out their wages, reckon the rent and the cost of candles or coal and a bowl of soup and bread for wives and children, and know with a despairing certainty that the numbers didn’t add up.

  ‘I didn’t tell you, did I, Grace – about Freddie?’

  ‘What about him?’ Grace didn’t look up at Ruby as they trudged away from the cotton mill, for she was concentrating on her feet. The sole of her left boot had worn through and she could feel the rough ground scraping on the ball of her foot. She hoped that her mother hadn’t thrown away the piece of cardboard that she had found. She would mend the boot just as soon as she arrived home.

  ‘Ma’s sold him to ’chimney sweep. Got ten bob, all found.’

  ‘What?’ Grace hadn’t really been listening. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Ma. She got ten shillings for Freddie. He’s apprenticed to a chimney sweep.’

  Grace stopped suddenly and was roughly barged into by someone in the crowd behind her. ‘They paid her?’ she said incredulously and winced as the person behind her trod on her heel. ‘But what does it mean?’

  ‘It means he can’t come home. ’Sweep owns him. He teaches him his trade and feeds him and everything.’ She took a deep breath and said in a choked voice, ‘I’ve been thinking about him all day, wondering if he’s all right. He’s onny eight, poor bairn, but ’chap who took him said he was old enough to be a sweep’s lad.’ She rubbed her eyes and muttered, ‘Ma cried in bed last night, first time I’ve ever known her do that. She said she did it for him, so’s he’d have a trad
e.’

  ‘He’s onny a year younger than we were when we started work.’ Grace took Ruby’s arm to comfort her as they walked on.

  ‘Yes, but we came home at night, didn’t we? And we were only supposed to work eight hours. Freddie could be working for longer than that if he’s got a hard taskmaster.’

  ‘Try not to worry.’ Grace stepped back as a chaise drawn by a bay horse came out of the mill gates and clattered towards them. ‘Those toffs in ’big houses will want their fires lit early, he’ll probably come down ’chimney by dinnertime and have ’rest of ’day off.’

  ‘Do you think so?’ Ruby was momentarily distracted by the two men sitting in the chaise. They seemed to be taking particular note of the workers as they passed them by. ‘I heard a rumour today,’ she said absently. ‘There’s been a directors’ meeting. Somebody’s resigned.’

  ‘Oh?’ Grace glanced across to the other side of the road. Someone in the crowd was waving in their direction. She waved back. ‘Look,’ she nudged Ruby. ‘There’s Daniel. I went for a walk with him last night. He was upset about that woman’s body that they found upstairs.’

  ‘My ma said that she’d seen a woman go in one night a couple of weeks ago,’ Ruby said, ‘but she didn’t tell anybody in case they fetched a constable to turn her out. She never saw her again and thought she must have left.’

  Grace shuddered. ‘It makes me feel sick. Poor woman. She must have been in a bad way to go in an empty house on her own.’

  ‘He’s coming across.’ Ruby watched as Daniel dodged the crowds and the horses and waggons that were coming in both directions.

  Grace smiled. ‘Do you like him, Ruby? I do. He’s asked me to go down to ’Humber with him tomorrow, just for a walk, you know.’